A Bad Thing
by Miska
Summary: Written for a challenge: Describe a pet peeve that Leia has about Han or vice versa. Cute, fluffy oneshot.


Author's Note: This was written for a challenge over --enjoy!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine- it's all George's :-)

A Bad Thing

_Obnoxious, irritating, terrible man! _Leia Organa, last surviving member of the Royal House of Alderaan, stormed furiously into the base mess hall. _Strode_, she mentally corrected herself; princesses did not storm. A small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that technically, princesses did not publicly shout at infuriating smugglers in crowded docking bays either, but that, she decided, was neither here nor there.

Three years. She had known him for three damn years and he had never said the words, never even come _close_ to saying them, and it drove her crazy. And it wasn't as if he didn't have a reason to; he had more reason than anyone else she knew. Three years of annoying nicknames, of shouting matches and near death experiences and horrible, horrible arguments and she had never heard a single "I'm sorry" from Han Solo.

Truth be told, the voice whispered, she had never exactly said the words herself either, but that was clearly different because she was rarely- no, make that never- in the wrong.

And there was so much about Han Solo that was wrong. For example, it was wrong the way she always seemed to know the moment he stepped into a room, even if her back was turned to the door. It was wrong that sometimes, during meetings, their eyes would meet in a secret half-smile of comradeship and maybe something more. And the way her stomach fluttered whenever he came too close to her had _wrong_ written all over it.

Leia took a deep breath and tried to still her racing heart. She had a feeling that getting herself so upset over this little habit of his was definitely not a good thing, especially in light of the argument they had had just yesterday. Getting attached to him, seeing him as anything more than an acquaintance, would inevitably end in heartbreak on her side because, as he had so kindly reminded her, he was leaving soon.

* * *

And in her defense, she had no idea what had even started the whole thing. He had certainly been nice enough when she approached him. She had never before come to see him in the docking bay, where he had been working on the Falcon, and something very like delight and surprise had lit his eyes on seeing her. But his good mood had evaporated the minute she mentioned that she had come to deliver a message from General Rieekan asking him to pick up some cargo off-planet in a couple of months. A cloud had passed over his face and Han had said brusquely,

"So now you're running errands for High Command, Your Highnessness?" Nettled, Leia had drawn herself up to her full height of four feet and eleven inches and said coldly,

"I do whatever needs to be done because I," she paused significantly, "am committed to what we're doing here." He'd rolled his eyes and asked her nastily to skip the recruitment speech; it was becoming boring. Then Leia had snapped that it must not have taken affect because he was still the same heartless mercenary. They'd continued in that vein for a few minutes, becoming gradually louder and angrier, before Han had abruptly turned away. When he'd looked back at her his eyes were narrowed and a vein was standing out on his temple as he said in a venomous undertone that was almost worse than his shouting,

"You can tell the general that I can't make his shipment. I'll be long gone from this hell-hole by then."

Leia wasn't quite sure how the conversation had ended; all she'd known was that she'd had to get away before she did something utterly humiliating. Like cry.

* * *

Well he could leave whenever he wanted; she wouldn't miss him one bit. (_Liar, liar_ taunted the little voice but Leia resolutely pushed it away; she was on a roll.) His leaving was the best thing possible because now she would be free to focus on more important things, and she wouldn't miss him or his ship or his laughing eyes or his--

She was busy trying to figure out what else about him she wouldn't miss when the mess hall doors opened and Han Solo, in all his glory, strodein. The noise level in the room dropped noticeably and Leia was the only person completely surprised when he made a bee-line directly for her.

Han didn't beat around the bush.

"Look, Your Worship," he said, shifting nervously from foot to foot like a small boy, "I wanted to…it's…" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I didn't mean any of what I said yesterday. I lost my temper and it was wrong of me and…I'm sorry."

Leia tried to look stern and unyielding, but if she was being totally honest with

herself she knew that her face-- eyes wide, mouth open-- probably looked more like a nerf caught in the headlights, and all she could think was, _any of it?_

"But…you're leaving?" It was more a question than a statement, and she was unpleasantly surprised to find that her mouth had gone dry and she was practically waiting with bated breath for his answer. In an instant the remorseful, boyish look was gone and the old roguish twinkle was back as Han replied,

"Nah, you can't get rid of me that easy. I'll be sticking around for a bit." He tossed her a wink and walked out of the mess hall, leaving an extremely distracted princess in his wake.

Distraction, she later decided, was really the only explanation for the single thought flashing through her mind at the time:

Maybe, jus maybe, this wasn't such a bad thing.


End file.
